The Stars Don't Even Matter
by impulsivememories
Summary: What if the life you thought you knew was a lie, a dream basically? Well, this is the case with Kurt, a Schizophrenic patient at the local mental hospital.
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE**: The Stars Don't Matter [chp. 1/?]  
><strong>AUTHOR: <strong>impulsivememories  
><strong>PAIRING: <strong>Blaine/Kurt (Although, it's mostly just Kurt)  
><strong>RAITING: <strong>PG-13  
><strong>CHAPTER WORD COUNT<strong>: 4,304 words  
><strong>SUMMARY<strong>:What if the life you thought you knew was a lie, a dream basically? Well, this is the case with Kurt, a Schizophrenic patient at the local mental hospital. His whole life, everything that mattered to him, was just a dream, and when he wakes up, he doesn't believe anything the doctors are saying. It's the first time, the doctors say, that he's shown any feeling other than anger, which they think is progress. It's truly a horrible life to wake up to, especially when you have to deal with the fact that no one cares anymore, and that the people you loved don't even exist, except for your parents. How will Kurt deal with this, especially when he starts seeing Blaine walking through the hospital hallways and no one else can see him?  
><strong>INSPIRATION<strong>: Ellie Goulding's cover of Sam Sparro's: Black and Gold

**Author's notes**: Yeah, that was a pretty shitty summary, but it's really all I can think of. This was originally supposed to be a one shot, but then I realized that I always have so much detail that it would probably be the longest one shot in the world. But, since I'm still writing for Who You Were, this will probably only have three or four chapters. Or probably only two, because I don't want to have a full blown novel with this. Very difficult process, writing, but worth it. For the record, I don't know anyone who has Schizophrenia, so I'm sorry if I get some things wrong if you know anyone with it. Yeah, all this writing is from research.

Also, please review. I love reviews.

**Warnings**: Might be a bit out of character so please bare with me

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee

* * *

><p><strong>From<strong>: Blaine

**To**: Kurt

Are we going to have our picnic tomorrow?

**From**: Kurt

**To**: Blaine

We will if you'll let me sleep. Kurt Hummel needs his beauty rest!

**From**: Blaine

**To**: Kurt

Alright, alright. I'll let you sleep, even though you're the most beautiful person in the world already. :)

**From**: Kurt

**To**: Blaine

Flattery is acknowledged, but it will get you nowhere mister.

**From**: Blaine

**To**: Kurt

Are you sure?

**From**: Kurt

**To**: Blaine

Quite, now will you let me sleep, or will continue to pester me?

**From**: Blaine

**To**: Kurt

Fine, fine. Good night. I love you 3

**From**: Kurt

**To**: Blaine

I love you too 3

* * *

><p>Kurt locked his phone, turning it on silent before placing it on his bedside table. A slight smile was placed on his face as he thought about the plans Blaine had set out for the two tomorrow. In the afternoon, they were going to head out to this quite park for a small picnic before going to the movie theater. Kurt was never into those comedic cheesy love movies, even with him being a bit of a hopeless romantic. Yet, to please Blaine, he agreed and couldn't help but smile as his boyfriend joyfully filed through all the movies that were placed in that genre that were currently playing. Honestly, Blaine can be so childish sometimes, and only the people closest to him will be able to witness it, since he holds up such a mature demeanor around his peers. He just wants to seem collected, which Kurt can understand. Blaine just doesn't want to seem like a coward anymore. He needs to have his head up high.<p>

Taking a sip of water, Kurt turned to his side and closed his eyes. He knew he would have a peaceful sleep tonight, without any disturbances. It was what he strived for every night, to be at peace even with things troubling his mind. It worked most of the time, especially lately. Everything was...perfect. The perfect family, the perfect friends, the perfect boyfriend. They all had their flaws, which made them perfect to him. Kurt wouldn't trade these things for anything.

Soon, he was drifting into sleep, a smile still on his face.

A loud crash abruptly woke Kurt, and he quickly sat up, throwing his legs over the bed and running out into the hallway. Still being drowsy from sleep, it took awhile for his eyesight to focus. When he finally got out of his sleepy daze, the first thing he noticed was that he was not at home. Instead, he was standing in a hallway with stark white walls and cold linoleum flooring. Rooms lined the hallways, all the doors closed except one, which he noticed had a light turned on. This truly seemed like a nightmare. _"Am I having one again?" _Kurt pondered over this, standing in the middle of the hallways not bothering to think that someone could possibly come. Nobody did though, for a while, but there was a crash again, which the brunnette noticed was coming from the room at the end of the hallway. He spoke quietly to himself. "Well, people pinch themselves, to see if it's reality, in movies, right? That never works though, because then it just shows that it's reality they're living in." Nothing coming out of his mouth made any sense, except one thing which was the decision on pinching himself. He just shook his head, constantly muttering to himself that this was just a dream.

"Hey! What are you doing out of bed?" He turned his head, noticing a woman dressed in a nurses outfit, the same exact color as the walls. "I-I-I-" the words just weren't forming on his tongue since he was in such a state of shock. "Nurse Jole, will you please get this patient back into their room." A petite nurse came out from behind the other, her hair shortly cut and a shimmering blonde, even though it was completely dark except for the light bouncing against the walls from the room at the end. The smaller nurse only nodded, grabbing Kurt by the hand, muttering soothing words to get him back into 'his' room. She closed the door behind her, as if she thought he was going to escape. This dream was truly insane. The nurse named Jole led him to his bed, somehow making him lie down, as if it was a normal response.

Thoughts piled up into his mind, one thought in particular intriguing him. This was his dream, so he could control it. Well, not the full of it, but what he says. So, he thought to just play along. "Nurse." His tone was questioning, and Jole looked at him, with kind eyes that he just noticed were a sparkling green.

"Yes?"

"Where am I?"

The nurse looked at him, a confused look on her face, yet another look that made him notice that she thought he was crazy. Suddenly, a clipboard was in her hand, and she just muttered words that confused him entirely. "Memory loss...maybe it's just sleep, or shock." The words were said quietly as she penned them down, seeming as if she thought he couldn't hear them. He didn't ask questions, even though he was rather curious. His tongue was tied, and the words weren't coming. He just couldn't concentrate on those words, which was strange. He usually had such great concentration and care when he chose his words. Now, he just seemed confused, and everything was hazy.

"Okay, I think you should get back to sleep." He inwardly shouted 'yes' in such a joyful manner, since soon he would wake up from this dream. He glanced over at the nurse, noticing how she set the clipboard down and grabbed something rather...cylindrical. Weird word to think about, but everything here was odd. As she brought it closer he noticed that a needle was pointing out of the end, and the tube was filled with a liquid that had an odd coloring to it. Ever since he was eight, he's absolutely hated hospital needles. Sewing needles were fine, but hospital needles just terrified him. He squirmed restlessly as she brought it closer to his arm. "Please, sit still." There was a firmness in her voice that frightened Kurt, considering how small she was and just how...fragile she looked. He went rigid, and he could feel the small puncture as the cold needle entered his skin. Suddenly, his vision became blurry, and he was drifting farther and farther away from the visible world.

Soon, he would be awake, live and healthy, in his own room instead of the stark, cold room he was previously in. It was all just a dream, right?

As he opened his eyes, he noticed very familiar hazel brown eyes peering at him, the sun surrounding the image, making him look surreal. Kurt said a drowsy 'hey', feeling the smile stretching across his features. Yet, as his vision cleared, the boy that was previously standing over him, next to the bed vanished as if it was smoke. Well, that was rather strange.

Kurt anchored himself up by pushing against the mattress with his hands, rolling his shoulders as he did so. He rubbed his eyes, still drowsy from sleep, but as he opened them, he took in a sharp inhale of breath. He wasn't in his room, his room back at home with his Broadway musical records, aligned neatly on one of his shelves. His fur blanket wasn't draped over his bed, like normal, and instead was replaced by itchy woven blankets and sheets. He noticed the two large windows placed next to each other on the right wall, letting the sun in and overlooking a green field, surrounded by green trees. Was he still dreaming? He couldn't be. That was impossible. He knows how it is with dreams. Once it goes dark, you wake up, safely back in a warm bed and familiar surroundings. These surroundings weren't at all familiar.

"Oh, good. You're awake."

Jole entered the room, holding a tray of food. Was she always holding an object? She placed the tray on a bedside nightstand, and grabbed a few things from a desk on the opposite wall. "Okay, let's check your blood pressure." Blood pressure? Was he sick or something? She wrapped the horrid black fabric around his arm, pressing the small pressure pump. It was tight, and a bit too painful for his taste. Jole let go of the pump, letting it release until dotting down the results on that clipboard of her's. "Still normal. That's good." Next, she grabbed a stethoscope, pressing it against his skin, only a thin layer of fabric shielding him from the coldness he knew all to well, which was strange. How did he know this? He only visited to hospital once when it was just for him. Sure, he's been to the hospital when his mother was...dying and same goes for his father. Luckily his father lived and recovered fully. Yet, somehow he just new how that stethoscope felt. "Heart rate isn't elevated. Still normal." She was muttering to herself mostly, but Kurt could hear her as she dotted more info on the clipboard.

"Dr. Hanson will be here momentarily. You should eat your breakfast before he gets here." Kurt was too stunned to say anything, and he watched as she left the room. He looked at the tray of food, none of it looking at all appetizing. There were two pieces of burnt toast, a plate of green jello, a bowl of cereal which just looked like corn flakes, which he hated, and a glass of orange juice. The only thing that looked actually edible and wouldn't hurt his stomach was the cereal. He picked up the bowl carefully, grabbing the spoon that was sticking out of the milk and soggy cereal. He almost dropped it though when he noticed what apparel he was wearing. A pale yellow, v-neck shirt, and he was assuming matching pants as well. Pale yellow was something that didn't appeal to him if it was the main color. It just didn't work. As an accent, sure, but not as a whole. Where was he?

Losing his appetite, he placed the bowl back on the tray, just as a tall, rough looking man came in. His eyes were kind though, which was good...he guessed. "Good evening Kurt. How are we today?" Wait. This man knew his name? What was going on here? His gaze followed the man as he picked up the clipboard. The man hummed to himself a short little 'hm'. "I see that you haven't been participating in the daily activities and that you lashed out at one of our patients again. Oh." The man looked shocked at first, as he adjusted his glasses. "Memory loss? This is new." The man looked at Kurt, and walked over to his bedside, pulling up a chair and sitting down, the clipboard still in hand.

"Excuse me, sir, but where am I and who are you?" Kurt had finally found his voice, and the man in front of him became wide eyed. He just continued to look at him, glancing nervously around at Kurt's face, which he found rather odd. It was if he was seeing if Kurt was being serious or not with his question. "You're serious, aren't you." It wasn't a question, but rather a statement. So, Kurt didn't make any response to it. He was hoping for the classic 'you're in a dream and I'm some-person-that-you-see-in-real-life-but-never-acknowledge', but the man in front of him said nothing similar to those words. This was all so confusing.

There was more muttering. _"Seriously, how many people mutter in this place?"_ Something about 'jogging your memory'. "What was the last thing you remember Kurt, from two days ago?" Why was this man asking all these questions? Kurt couldn't help but answer, with the truth. "I remember going to the mall with some of my friends, and texting my boyfriend before going to sleep and waking up here." Agitation. That was what was in his voice and the man in front of him took note of that. There was more writing and more muttering. This was really getting tiring.

"Listen, can you just tell me where I am and who you are?" Anger. A feeling he hasn't felt in a long time. He's felt pain and sadness, but never anger. What's happening?

"Kurt, you're in the BCA Ohio Hospital for Psychiatry, and I'm Dr. Hanson, your therapist.' He seemed rather concerned about Kurt's confusion to where he was placed, and how he had no recollection of who the doctor was. "I'm in a...mental hospital?" It came out rather breathless and quietly, but the doctor only nodded. "That can't be right. Just a few hours ago I was in my room, back at home in Lima, Ohio texting my boyfriend...this is all just a dream. A wild, crazy dream." "Kurt, you don't have a boyfriend, this isn't a dream and you don't even have a cell phone." It was rather pushed, the statement that his apparent therapist made as if he's trying to make Kurt wrap his head around the fact that he isn't having a dream. "Now, I want you to take a deep breath, alright?" Kurt did as he was told, taking a deep, calming breath. He didn't know why he was following the doctor's instructions, but something about him made Kurt have trust. "Good, good. Now, I want you to close your eyes and tell me about your life." And Kurt did just that. He told him his entire life history. Well, the things that were deemed important.

Forty-five minutes had passed until he had finished his explanation. He didn't open his eyes though, since he was still held on the belief this wasn't reality, and if he didn't open his eyes he would fall back asleep and wake up back at home. Sleep wasn't coming though, and Dr. Hanson's voice penetrated his thoughts. "Now Kurt, I want you to tell me more about Blaine." "Why?" His eyes are still closed. "You seem to brighten up when you say his name." Well, this was odd. Just because he brightened up when he heard Blaine's name doesn't really seem to matter this doctor. He told him anyway, every little detail about Blaine. How his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, the way he smells the cinnamon and coffee, the way he's always trying to help a person in need, to make up for his own mistakes. It just brings a smile to Kurt's face as he pictures the boy, with his warm smile and bright hazel eyes.

"Kurt," he could feel someone put their hand over his, yet it didn't faze him. "Open your eyes, and look at me." The smile disappeared as Kurt turned to look at his doctor. "I want you to realize what your condition is. I know, this may seem a bit forced given what you've been experiencing, but this life you think you have...it isn't real." "Of course it's real. If it's not real, then how can I remember every little detail?" The doctor shook his head. "You're having delusions, Kurt. It's part of you symptoms, but it's never been this strong." The word struck Kurt like a barreling train. Delusions. This was just all so confusing. "Listen, Kurt. I'm going to try and explain to you what's happening with as much care as possible, okay?" He nodded. It would be good to have at least some explanation. "You've been at this hospital for five months now, and you've lived like any other patient in this building." Hanson took a breath. "Your father, who is in fact, the only real person in your life that you described from your story, brought you here. The reason for this is because you were diagnosed with a disease called Schizophrenia, and your father just wanted you to be cured."

"Schizophrenia? What are you talking about?"

"It's a mental disease, Kurt. A very complex one that can't be fully cured. The delusion you've been having, it isn't real. It's just your subconscious, creating a world in your mind that you believe in so much because you want to."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I just don't want you believing in people and things that aren't real."

"But they are real..." It was barely a whisper and the man soon interjected. "They aren't real." Dr. Hanson let go of his hand and stood up, grabbing the clipboard that he previously set down during the forty-five minutes Kurt explained his life story, that was apparently all a lie. "I'm going have to schedule an appointment with you for later in the afternoon, and the same for tomorrow." There was more scribbling of the pen. "There is one upside to this though." A quizzical look was sent his way. "You're starting to show more emotion than just anger and impassiveness." He smiled as he hung up to clipboard and walked out of the room. Now Kurt was finally alone, for the most part.

Was this really the life that he always lived, and the one he thought was real was just his imagination? That couldn't be it. The other world felt so...real. The life he lived felt like it was apart of him, yet somehow in the back of his mind this place seemed so familiar.

"You should really stop over thinking about these things."

Kurt looked up abruptly, but no one was there. He heard that voice, the familiar voice that he loved hearing so much. No one was in the room though, and it just made Kurt a bit more sad than he already was. "Alright Kurt, it's time for the morning activities." He turned his head to look at Jole who made a reappearance.

"What are the morning activities?"

"Well, for today, I'm supposed to take you to the recreation room so you can spend some time with the other patients, and then later you will take a walk out in the gardens." He knew her smile was fake. Jole didn't seem to like it here very much. It was mostly just a job to her, and probably most to the other whacked up employees in this place.

"Oh, you didn't even touch your breakfast." Disappointment.

"It looked unappetizing."

"Dear, you're looking a little pale. You have to eat something."

Kurt shook his head. He didn't even feel hungry. The nurse sighed.

"Alright, but you have to eat something at lunch. Now let's get you to the rec room."

"Can you wait outside for a bit. I need to think think for a moment."

Another quizical look. "I-I guess I could do that."

Jole walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. Kurt threw the covers off his body and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, touching the surprisingly carpeted floor. He thought it to be the same linoleum that was out in the hallway, but no. It was just a rugged, white carpet.

Kurt stood up, stretching out his limbs before scanning the room to take in a bit more details. The was a painting of a village on the wall opposite the one the bed was propped up against. A dresser was under the painting, but Kurt knew that there wasn't really anything in there. It was probably just for show.

There was an orange and yellow floral quilt neatly folded at the end of the bed, probably there in case the person using the bed got cold. It was a rather neatly decorated room, just not his taste. It looked too much like a nursing home to him, especially with the yellow walls that matched the color of the clothes he was wearing. He looked at the chair that his therapist had sat down in earlier, before leaving. The was a gray sweater draped over it. It was a rather long sweater, so he pulled it off the chair and pulled it on. The sleeves were a little long, but other than that it was the absolutely perfect size. He knew this sweater. It was in the back of his closet back at home...well, the home he thought he knew.

Kurt closed his eyes, a frustrated sigh escaping from his mouth. Best get this day over with.

He was walking with Jole now, her not letting him out of her sight, as if he would try and escape. He wish he had shoes or something, because the floor was absolutely freezing, but no. He had to go barefoot. They were now entering a rather large room, filled with people in the same clothes as him. He shuddered. It was a rather large space, with at least four chess boards and there was a little sitting area near a very large bay window. There was another one near a fireplace, but there was only a vase of flowers up on the mantle.

"Alright, Kurt. I'll be back in an hour along with the other nurses to take you outside." Another fake smile. Kurt nodded and watched as she padded off, out of the double doors and out of sight. Kurt looked frantically around, wondering if he would see someone familiar, as if somehow his lives still meshed with that of his friends. Yet, all these faces were the ones of strangers and Kurt suddenly felt singled out.

Shyly, he went to the sitting area near the bay window, since there was only one other person there and they had their nose stuck in a book.

Kurt sat down in one of the chairs facing towards the window, let the warmth of the sun fill him up. He felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up, wondering who was bothering his solitude. It was the person with the book, who appeared to be a girl a little younger than him. She bared a resemblance to Jole greatly, with her golden blonde hair and the color of he eyes. Except, her hair fell into curls at the ends. She looked rather adorable.

"Can I talk to you?"

Well, that was a rather odd question. Why would someone ask permission to talk to another? Well, maybe it's more common than he thought. Kurt nodded and his gaze followed the girl as she took the seat to the right of him, and he noticed how thin she was.

It took awhile for her to get situated but his gaze never left her. It wasn't that he was interested in her, because it's pretty obvious that he is capital 'G' gay. She just seemed like a person who felt singled out, like himself.

She looked up, smiling a small smile, which was strange because it didn't seem fake. It was like she actually wanted to talk to him and possibly be sort-of-friends.

"I'm Marlena. What's yours?"

A cough. "Kurt."

"Well, it's nice to meet you Kurt. Why were you placed here?"

"What?" Confusion.

"What mental illness do you have?"

What a great first question, he thought sarcastically. Well, it was actually the fourth question he was asked by this girl. But still.

"I don't know really." Truth. " My therapist told me I have Schizophrenia and that I've been here for five months but I don't remember any of my time here. He said I was having a delusion of an entirely different life that was just my imagination, even though it feels like it's real."

Now he felt like he was coming off as a lunatic tot his girl, but they were in a mental hospital, so maybe this was just normal, since she didn't seem phased by anything he said.

"I've never met someone with your disorder before, although I'm not much of a talker."

"Really? You seem to be talking a lot to me."

"Well, you have my sister as a nurse, so I kind of know you already even though we've never talked before."

More confusion, but Kurt didn't say anything about Jole, since it seemed that a sad tone overtook Marlena's voice when she said 'my sister'.

"What's your disorder?"

She seemed to squirm a bit in her seat, as if she was uncomfortable to talk about it. Instead, she mumbled.

"I have—I mean...I'm anorexic, I have anxiety disorder, but I also have conduct disorder."

Before he could ask her what conduct disorder was, she continued on speaking.

"I need to have everything in order and I can never be relaxed. It's not that big of a deal, but apparently therapy was what was called for, so my parents dropped me off here. My sister took a job here a month after I came.

There was a moment of silence as Kurt turned to look back out of the window. It seemed, even though this was a mental hospital and the patients probably talked about it all the time, that the mention of disorders just saddened the patients even further, since it basically meant they were freaks. Everyone in this building was singled out by the outside world. It was saddening, and Kurt wondered if he would have to live in this building forever. If this was truly the reality and everything he loved was just fiction.


	2. Tears fall into the ocean

**TITLE**: The Stars Don't Matter [chp. 2/3 (?)]  
><strong>AUTHOR: <strong>impulsivememories  
><strong>PAIRING: <strong>Blaine/Kurt (Although, it's mostly just Kurt)  
><strong>RAITING: <strong>PG-13  
><strong>CHAPTER WORD COUNT<strong>: 3,024 words  
><strong>SUMMARY<strong>:What if the life you thought you knew was a lie, a dream basically? Well, this is the case with Kurt, a Schizophrenic patient at the local mental hospital. His whole life, everything that mattered to him, was just a dream, and when he wakes up, he doesn't believe anything the doctors are saying. It's the first time, the doctors say, that he's shown any feeling other than anger, which they think is progress. It's truly a horrible life to wake up to, especially when you have to deal with the fact that no one cares anymore, and that the people you loved don't even exist, except for your parents. How will Kurt deal with this, especially when he starts seeing Blaine walking through the hospital hallways and no one else can see him?  
><strong>INSPIRATION<strong>: Ellie Goulding's cover of Sam Sparro's: Black and Gold

**Author's notes**: Not as long as the first chapter, but hey, I decided to split this up into two parts, this chapter. So the second part might be the last chapter...unless I decide to do the whole alternate ending thing, but to do that I'd have to be seriously persuaded. I'm writing a million things at once, since I have a million story plots written down and will get to all of them at some point. Write now I'm writing a fourteen year old Blaine thing (so no Kurt) that you shall read soon. It's only a one shot, so yeah. I'm still trying to figure out how I want chapter five of Who You Were to go, so it might be awhile before you get that chapter.

So yes, please enjoy this chapter and tell me what you think.

Please review. I love reviews. Reviews are love, and it's basically free hugs for me. I love hugs ^_^

**Warnings**: Might be a bit out of character so please bare with me

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee

* * *

><p>Dear...whatever this is,<p>

I mean, why do people say 'dear' anyway? Who are they writing to? People are just writing on a piece of paper, so there's no reason to say that beginning. I guess they just want to say 'dear' to themselves since it is for their own hypothetical reasons.

Okay, let me start over.

Dear...whatever this is,

It's been two days since I woke up in this nut job place and I still believe it's a dream. My therapist said that I should start writing a diary, but I didn't want to call it a diary and journal is too mainstream these days because nobody wants to call their deepest thoughts a 'diary' because that just sounds cheesy so they just use 'journal'. Both sound stupid to me, so it's just called a 'something' for now. But yes, therapist. Told me to start writing one, for therapeutic reasons. He said that I should start writing out my 'frustration and confusion' in a notebook, so he gave me this small one, and I hate it because it's wide ruled and wide ruled just annoys the shit out of me. I mean, who uses wide ruled anymore? Seriously.

Anyway, yeah. Two days. Two days of unappetizing hospital food and chatty Marlena. I mean, she's a nice girl and all, she just won't stop talking. I can't even get a word in, so I just sit staring out that large glass window thinking when I'll be able to be on the other side. It sounds pretty depressing, how I wish I was 'normal' and well, that's because it is. I was normal, for a certain amount of time, but I just had to wake up out of it. Sure, I was labeled as I freak in that world but for different reasons. Here, I'm surrounded by freaks, and one of them thinks that his house is on the moon and his wife is some butterfly alien creature that he met while traveling the ice cream planet. I think he should be in a nursing home, because it's pretty common for old people to think that way, from what I know. But his family dropped him off here and he now lives here. Apparently all you have to do to get in is for someone mutually related to you to just drop you off, and that's it. Sounds pretty strange to me.

Speaking of families though, the only one I have is my dad because apparently I never introduced him to Carole because I was dealing with these symptoms before and I was in this special program at school so I never joined Glee club and I never knew Finn, or anyone for that matter. Well, that's what Dr. Hanson told me during yesterday's afternoon therapy session. Apparently, what made my dad decide to send me here was when these symptoms were fully triggered, but he didn't tell me what that trigger was. I found that rather frustrating, because every time I asked he just got this really disturbed and hesitant look on his face as if he was deciding on if to tell me but thinking against it. It must be pretty significant if he won't tell me. He did tell me this though. Schizophrenia is a genetic disease so one of my family members, no matter how distant, must have had my disease (or is still alive and dealing with it) and it is mostly triggered by a death or a horrid accident that affects me personally. So someone who was close to me must have died or been a horrible accident that resulted in a coma or later death. It obviously wasn't my dad, and even my mother's death didn't trigger it since I was eight when she died and apparently that's too young to fully gain the symptoms. It's all rather confusing to me, and those were the two closest people I had in this life so it's left me in the dark.

But that's not all that's been pulling at my mind. Lately, I've been hearing a voice..._HIS_ voice. No, not him upstairs, since I don't believe in him (but a lot of people here do which just annoys me because they're preaching his word like lunatics), but _him, _the one who gave me courage and loves me, actually loves me, for who I am. Well, the me in the other life that's still in the back of my mind making its presence known feeling much too real. But yes. He's talking to me, all the time telling me that I shouldn't over think things. Well, that's mostly all he says. It's rather annoying and I wish he would tell me what the hell is going on, but again, he doesn't want me to over think, which I believe is him telling me I shouldn't worry so much. I just wish I could see him. I wish he would comfort me but I know that's not possible because he's not real. He's a figment of my imagination, my subconscious playing tricks on me and blah blah blah. I wish my therapist would stop telling me that, because even though it's only been two days, he's really putting a downer on my mood and it's getting rather annoying.

Well, anyway, apparently family day is coming up, where all the patients families are coming to the hospital to pick you up and take you around town so you can have 'quality time'. That's in three days, and luckily you have your own clothes to go out in. I can't stand these hospital clothes. Wearing the same thing every day? No thanks, especially when everyone else is wearing them. Just makes me sick. So yeah, I have to be on my best behavior, which I don't know what they mean by that because I don't know how to act here. I've caught on to just be silent and to not talk to anybody, but to look like I am talking to someone. That's what Marlena is for, and I'm grateful she's the talkative one so I don't have to say anything about myself. Gives time to think while she's chatting away and makes the nurses think I'm being social, which they call progress. Stupid progress. I was making enough progress at home, where I belong. In a sense anyway.

I think it's almost well past midnight, and by think, I actually mean it because I don't have a damn clock in this room. They don't have an excuse for that, and I will soon be requesting one because I can't stand it when I don't know the exact time. It's just how my mind's been behaving lately. So yeah. The nurses usually would have come in hours ago and given me my anesthetic to get me to sleep, because another symptom is trouble sleeping. So basically insomnia. But they didn't come in so I guess I'm free for tonight. So yeah...I really have no idea how to say goodbye to a piece of paper with a bunch of words...so yeah. I'll just end it here.

* * *

><p>Kurt placed the pen in between the spirals of the notebook as he closed the book softly and placing it on the nightstand next to the bed. A great, annoyed sigh escaped his mouth as he continues to lie in bed, knowing sleep will never come. He could give himself the shot, since it was on the other side of the room, but he decided against it since he didn't know how much they give him and self medication is never a good choice. Plus, he hated hospital needles, so yeah. He'll just have to stay up for the night. Great. Now what was he going to do for seven hours? There really was nothing to do in the room he was in at the moment. It was just so...bleak. He hated it.<p>

Kurt continued to lie there. It really was all he could do, unless he decided to close his open door, but he didn't feel like getting up to just do that. The open door let some air in anyway. He could open the windows, but there's an alarm on them during the night.. He knows this because he tried last night and the nurses came rushing in when the blaring noise blasted through the building. It's fine, during the day, since they know they won't try to 'escape' in broad sunlight since there's always someone outside during that time. He hated being caged in this place. All he's been feeling is anger and hatred towards this place. Who wouldn't?

A half hour passed as Kurt still lie on his bed, fully awake without an inch of drowsiness. It was thirty minutes filled with silence and non-thinking. Thinking caused too much worry, and he didn't want to feel that because that would bring on more depressing emotions. So, he decided to just lie there, stare off into space not really paying attention to anything. That is, until a rather fast movement caught his eye.

Turning his head to get a better look, he only caught a glimpse of a figure walking at a fast pace. It seemed rather peculiar because the person was dressed in...normal clothes. All the employees had a certain uniform and every patient wore the same exact clothing. Even though he only caught a glimpse, he saw the back of a dark red sweater and dark wash jeans that were slightly rolled up. The figure was wearing black Converse and he wondered where he saw the outfit before. Nothing was coming to mind, but Kurt just had a feeling that he should get up and follow the figure. So, pulling the covers off of his body, Kurt stood up and walking to the door, peering his head around the frame. Again, he only caught a glimpse as the figure disappeared around a corner.

It took only a moment of hesitation until Kurt bolted down the hallway, following the direction the person went. He didn't even think about what would happen if he got caught, which would probably end in him being put under again.

He was mostly following the shadow that was being given off by the light of the moon. It may be a hospital, but there were a lot of windows, probably to make it feel more open and warm than it actually is.

The figure, that Kurt concluded to be male, led him to a small room, much smaller than the rec room, and it was brightly lit by the lamps. It was a small sitting area, by the looks of it, one that seemed much more comfortable than anywhere else. There were bookshelves in the back, and it just looked like a study. The boy that Kurt had seen was sitting on one of the couches, the one facing him. Kurt could see his face now, and he caught his breath.

"Blaine."

A million questions ran through Kurt's head, which just made a massive headache pop up. Was this real? Why is he here? What the hell is going on? Yeah, mostly the last one.

"I told you to stop over thinking."

There was a playful smile stretching across the other boy's features, but Kurt just stood there, paralyzed. He just felt like he was in one of those dramatic movies where the long lost love returns, or something. Mostly Kurt just felt like he got the wind blown out of him, by just seeing Blaine. His doctor said he wasn't real, that it was just his subconscious telling him he wanted to be loved. But here he is, right in front him, looking as real as can be.

The smile slowly dispersed and turned into a frown. Kurt could feel the tears coming, but he pushed them back. Just seeing him spurred on so many memories that were just in his head. It was heartbreaking.

They stayed like that for a while, just staring at each other. It seemed like they were wondering which one was going to break first, which one was going to move. They both knew who it would be, it just took awhile. He tried to keep the tears back, he really did, but as he walked over to the couch, and sat down, one escaped and soon they were just flowing. Kurt buried his head into Blaine's chest, staining the sweater and striped shirt he was wearing. He didn't seem to mind though, and they just sat like that, Kurt trying to stop crying even though it really wasn't working, and Blaine holding him, trying to comfort him. They were both trying to do these things which just made it hurt even more.

"It's going to be alright Kurt," Blaine cooed in his ear. Kurt shook his head.

"I don't know—where I am or what I'm doing here. I don't belong in this place, Blaine, I just don't. It just felt—-so real." Kurt's voice was stuttering as he tried to choke back the sobs. He wanted to stay strong in front of Blaine, but instead he was just falling apart.

"I know, I know. It's going to be alright." That was the second time he said that, but Kurt just couldn't believe it. It was never going to be alright, it just couldn't.

Kurt pulled away, wiping away the tears with the back of his hand. His cheeks were stained red and his eyes all puffy. He hated crying, especially in public, even if it was just Blaine.

"No, Blaine, it's not going to be alright. I don't know where I am or what I'm doing here. This place is full of nut jobs, even though I'm one myself, and my therapist is telling me that you were never real or my other life even though you're right in front of me. I doubt my dad can even bare to look at me if he dumped me off here, and I'm supposed to put on my best face for him in three days. What am I supposed to do, Blaine? I'm not supposed to be like this, I'm not supposed to be some...insane mental patient in this insane mental hospital. I'm supposed to be normal, and live a normal life with you, and all our friends and my dad. You're supposed to help me, and give me courage, while I help you fight your own bullies along the way. Instead, I'm here listening to Marlena go on and on about these topics that don't even interest me, even though she said she was a rather shy girl. She's nice, and all, but I just feel completely and utterly alone here. No one's listening, Blaine and I can't stand it. I just can't..."

It seemed like he was going to break down again, but he remained silent, and at least appeared to be strong about it. He didn't go into a sobbing fit again and just looked down at his feet, bent over, his hands joined together but acting restless. Blaine just looked at him, silent for a moment before looking away and going into the same position Kurt was in.

"Kurt, you know how much I love you, and I'll always be here, but I need you to stay strong, okay?"

They looked at each other, Kurt having that 'bitch, you're crazy' look on his face. Blaine laughed and short, sweet laugh.

"I just want you to see your father, okay? He loves you, even if you don't believe it. He will be here, I promise."

"How do you know?"

"I just...do." A smile again. Kurt nodded, wanting to believe Blaine.

They shared a sweet, tender kiss then, Blaine knowing it would make him feel better, just a bit. Blaine pulled away first, pressing their foreheads together, just smiling at each other. It was a pleasant moment, Blaine cupping his face with his right hand, as he held Kurt's hand with his other.

"What are you doing in here?"

Kurt looked up suddenly, not saying a word because he was in shock again. A nurse he didn't know was standing in the doorway.

"Come on, let's get you back to bed. You shouldn't be wandering the hallways alone at night."

"But I'm not alone..." He looked back as Blaine as the nurse came over and pulled him off the couch. He wondered why she couldn't see Blaine. He was clearly there, in full view.

"Yes, you are. Now come along." She pulled him out of the room as he looked back. Blaine was still there, looking at him with a saddened look. "Can't you see him?"

The nurse looked at him, an annoyed look on her face. The nurses were supposed to be pleasant towards the residents. Something told Kurt that she wasn't having a very pleasant night, or day for that matter. "See who, honey?" A fake, sarcastic smile. "The person I was with. He's right there." Kurt tried to point to the couch as she led him out of the room, and out of Blaine's view. "There's no one there. Now let's get you to bed." The nurse, who was rather muscular and tall, led him back to his room, somehow knowing where it was. He guessed all employees were taught to know the patients and where they 'live'.

He was now in his bed, the covers pulled over his body except for his arms, which were on top of the horrid orange and yellow quilt that she draped over the other covers, even though he really wasn't cold. She looked at the clip board that was always hanging on the wall, filled with patient information and notes taken. She placed it back on the hook, and grabbed the needle that held his anesthetic. She made her way over, and he stared, petrified, at the blue liquid held inside.

Soon, the needle entered his skins, the hairs on his neck rising, until he relaxed and fell under, the drug quickly taking affect.

* * *

><p><strong>End AN<strong>: Don't ask why I love torturing these characters because I really have no idea what the reason is. It doesn't give me any joy, if that's what you're asking.


	3. A bunch of matter

**TITLE**: The Stars Don't Matter [chp. 3/3]  
><strong>AUTHOR: <strong>impulsivememories  
><strong>PAIRING: <strong>Blaine/Kurt (Although, it's mostly just Kurt)  
><strong>RAITING: <strong>PG-13  
><strong>CHAPTER WORD COUNT<strong>: 2011 words  
><strong>SUMMARY<strong>:What if the life you thought you knew was a lie, a dream basically? Well, this is the case with Kurt, a Schizophrenic patient at the local mental hospital. His whole life, everything that mattered to him, was just a dream, and when he wakes up, he doesn't believe anything the doctors are saying. It's the first time, the doctors say, that he's shown any feeling other than anger, which they think is progress. It's truly a horrible life to wake up to, especially when you have to deal with the fact that no one cares anymore, and that the people you loved don't even exist, except for your parents. How will Kurt deal with this, especially when he starts seeing Blaine walking through the hospital hallways and no one else can see him?  
><strong>INSPIRATION<strong>: Ellie Goulding's cover of Sam Sparro's: Black and Gold

**Author's notes**: So, I decided this is only going to be three chapters, which I think is quite enough for this story. At the end of this, there will be a little note that I advise you to read, for many reasons. Yeah, not much to say here except that this end chapter might be a bit short.

Also, please review. I love reviews.  
>I'd like to give a thank you to all the people who read my young Blaine fic and reviewed. It was a rather hard topic to approach.<p>

**Warnings**: Might be a bit out of character so please bare with me

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee

* * *

><p>Three days passed, and Kurt kept seeing Blaine walking down the hallways. He didn't want to tell Dr. Hanson about his first encounter, but one of the nurses did the liberty of that. Probably the one that found him on that sleepless night. Well, it was sleepless until she injected the 'sleeping potion,' as he calls it these days, into his system. He was doing quite well without it.<p>

* * *

><p>Anyway, the therapist told him another one of his symptoms. Well, Kurt knew that was part of his disorder, but Hanson got into more detail yesterday. Apparently, Blaine is an illusion, a vision rather. Kurt is really getting annoyed at how they keep on telling him that Blaine isn't real, he never existed and all that. Kurt knew what he saw, and what he saw was very real. He held on to him for dear life, for gods sake, so he can't be just an illusion...can he? Kurt didn't want to dwell on it forever though, and he decided it best not to mention it today since he was seeing his father. The father in this world, not the one he knows in his delusion. He doesn't even know the father in this world, since apparently they only visit every so often. Well, his father anyway. He's seen family members of some of the patients visit almost every single day so far, and he's only just woken up here for six days, give or take. It's just kind of heartbreaking.<p>

Kurt was walking through the hallways now, towards the front entrance where he was going to meet up with him. He was just wearing a pair of skinny jean, a blank white t-shirt, a red jacket and some black converse. At least his fashion sense isn't any different here.

He looked at the walls of the main hallway as he made his way out. They were full of paintings of the residents, and they were all different, yet each the same by showing emotion. Not the same emotion, but emotion. Painting was on the list of afternoon activities tomorrow, since his therapist thinks that it will be better therapy than him just talking. Kurt just thinks that Hanson is becoming insane himself by Kurt's persistence at trying to prove that everything he saw and experienced was real. His therapist needs a well deserved break.

* * *

><p>He was out the front doors now, and he saw Burt standing there, a smile on his face. It didn't look...real though. It seemed as if he was trying to put on a show as well, trying to be on his best behavior. Kurt could see the pain in his eyes, all the suffering. Kurt wished he could make it all go away. He wished a lot of things these days.<p>

Yet his father's posture didn't stop Kurt from walking briskly up to the man and giving him a fierce hug. Burt seemed taken aback by the gesture, but he returned it, and the two stayed like that for awhile, until Burt pulled back, smiling at his boy. He pulled Kurt towards the car and soon they were on the road.

* * *

><p>They were sitting in a coffee shop now, The Lima Bean. Burt was never a big fan of the coffee they sold there but Kurt insisted. The two were sitting in the back corner, and while Kurt took a sip of his usual, well the usual in his other life, Burt was enjoying a rather large chocolate donut.<p>

Burt was the first to break the silence. "I brought something for you." The man produced a red shopping bag that Kurt was wondering about only moments ago. From the bag Burt pulled out a rather raggedy looking stuffed animal, that appeared to be a lion. It seemed rather old, and the memory of it was faint. Kurt took it in his hands and turned it over in his hands, taking in every detail.

"I found it while cleaning out a bit of the attic. I remember how you would never let it out of your sight, and always kept it close. I think you lost it around the age of eight."

Kurt looked up at Burt and only mouthed a slight thank-you before looking back at the small thing. He placed it in his lap and continued to drink his coffee, the silence stretching until Kurt was on the last drop of coffee. He decided it was time for him to ask a question that has been burdening his mind the past few days. He knew that it wold strike something, but natural curiosity always gets the best of him.

"Dad..."

Burt looked up.

"I was wondering if you could answer a question of mine."

The man only nodded.

"I've seem to have forgotten something, a memory I think, and I deem it rather important since my therapist seems to be bringing it up quite often."

Burt tensed at the sound of 'therapist' and Kurt knew he struck a nerve there, since there was a deep sadness in his eyes.

"And what is that question?"

"Seven months ago, something happened to trigger, well...this," Kurt knew that his father knew what 'this' meant, "and I'm just wondering what that event was."

A pause and another drawn out silence. It seemed as if the silence lasted for an eternity, until the man finally spoke, in a very brisk and hushed tone.

"Listen, Kurt, I don't know if I'm the right one to tell you..." Burt saw the desperation in Kurt's eyes, "But, I guess I could show you." A look of confusion crossed the younger boy's features. His father told him to gather his things, and soon they were out the door and in the car again.

* * *

><p>It took awhile for them to reach their destination, but as Kurt looked out the window, he noticed that they were at the cemetery, and there was a rather horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. His dad stepped out of the car, and Kurt did the same, following Burt into the massive array of headstones, the lion safely held within Kurt's grasp.<p>

They stopped, and Kurt looked down.

"I'll be back in the car." Burt walked off, leaving Kurt alone in front of the white headstone. He knelt down, and read the inscription.

_Blaine Anderson  
>1993-2011<br>Son of Karen and Harold Anderson  
>Courage is found in the most unsuspected places<em>

Kurt didn't cry. He thought he should, but he didn't. He only let one tear escape, trekking down his face, staining it with a tint of red. That was all that escaped though, but the tears did burn his eyes. He wiped them away with the back of his hand. He felt empty inside, like a part of him just vanished, and a part did vanish. Everything he thought he knew vanished, leaving an empty void in that small part of his heart and mind.

A voice startled him, but he didn't turn around.

"I'll always be here, this isn't the end."

"But you aren't here. You just an illusion, like everyone said. This is the end."

He could feel the weight of Blaine's hand on his shoulder, but it felt so wrong. Blaine was dead, that was the truth. Blaine's death caused this, the trigger. Kurt didn't want to know how he died though. That would be useless information.

The weight was gone, as if Blaine disappeared into smoke. That's what he saw anyway, out of the corner of his eye. The other boy's voice came into his head, but it was only a murmur.

_"No, it's not." _

A sigh escaped his mouth, a hint of sadness and frustration coming to it. He didn't know what to believe anymore. Everything he knew was gone, and he didn't even know how to live in this life. His father was a different man, and Kurt himself was a different person. The boy didn't know what to do.

* * *

><p>A half hour passed before Kurt decided it was time to leave. He just needed to think for awhile, and that's what he did. Thinking time was over for now, so Kurt bent forward a bit and placed his stuffed animal in front of the headstone, sitting it upright. Blaine needed it more than him anyway.<p>

He stood up, brushing off the dirt of his jeans and walked the path that he somehow remembered they took to get there. He caught a glimpse of his mother's resting place, but he only stood there for a moment. He didn't need to be saddened anymore, so he continued on his walk until he reached the car.

They drove back in silence.

* * *

><p>Kurt was in his room now, the hospital room, fumbling with a pen that he found hidden in one of the drawers of the bureau. He really didn't know what to do, even though he knew exactly what to do, if that makes any sense. The nurses would be coming soon, to give him his sleeping drug, so he had to be quick.<p>

Throwing the pen onto the floor without a care, he reached under the bed and pulled out a hand gun. His father had it in his car, for emergencies even though Burt was too fragile to use such a weapon. He kept it there anyway, and the young boy swiped it when they had to fill up on gas. It was rather easy.

He couldn't stay here any longer, he just couldn't, so he knew that this was the only way out. It wasn't just because of Blaine. No it was much more than that, so much more. So, he readied the gun, and placed it against the side of head, feeling the cold metal. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and opened them again, pulling the trigger. A shot rang out and all nurses rushed to the room.

* * *

><p>Kurt sat up suddenly, the blinding sun flashing in his eyes. He covered them with his hand before opening them again and taking in his surroundings. He was in a field, sitting on a picnik blanket and there were trees in the distance.<p>

"Are you alright Kurt?"

The brunette turned his head, and saw Blaine as clear as daylight kneeling in front of him, a cup of water in his hands. Well, this was odd.

"Is this real?"

"Of course it's real. Why wouldn't it be real?"

Kurt just shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He decided not to tell Blaine. "Just a bad dream is all."

"Well, you took a rather long nap. Didn't get enough sleep I suppose."

Yeah, that must be it. Just sleep deprivation. His breathing calmed, and he got into the same position as Blaine. He nodded to the boy, agreeing with what he just said. "Yeah, just not enough sleep." A grin stretched across the other boy's face as he took a sip of his water. Kurt reached into the basket that he just noticed and pulled out a piece of bread and started nibbling on it. Everything was just a dream and Kurt's mind was at ease for once.

What he didn't notice was the stuffed lion stuffed into Blaine's bag carelessly, it's little mane poking out. It seemed old, and raggedy, as if it has been lost in time.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Fin<strong>_

**END AN**: So, I hope enjoyed this little story that I made. I really don't know why I like killing Blaine though. It will forever be a mystery to me. And, this ending, yeah. I really don't know what to say, because you can have different perspectives of it. I just hope you understand it, that's all. If you don't, well you can message me or something. Or make your own idea of it.

Now off to write some fluff since I've been writing way too many depressing stories lately.

Oh, and Who You Were has been put on hiatus for lack of ideas.


End file.
